


Loyalty

by HorologiumParadox



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bros Will Be Bros, Chocobros - Freeform, Crack-ish, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Light cursing?, Pranks, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox
Summary: Noctis drops dead on the carpet. The chocobros give him the funeral he deserves.(Chocobros showing the beautiful side of friendship. Based off two posts on Twitter, link on notes at the beginning.)





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!   
> This work was inspired by this thread here (https://twitter.com/neviesketches/status/1016483942466310144) about this video here (https://twitter.com/_pridc/status/1015351568839913472). Thanks for igniting my creativity!  
> Enjoy ;*

_ “Remember –– those ain’t your bodyguards, they’re your brothers.” _

Cid’s words echoed in Ignis’ head as he sat on a worn out chair, coffee in hand, watching the scene unfold before him, open newspaper forgotten on the table.

Noctis had taken ‘could crash right here’ quite literally and just flopped down to the floor two steps into their shared room. However, Gladiolus and Prompto, as it turned out, had plenty of energy left, going by their current endeavour.

“Your turn,” Gladio groaned, reclining back on his hand on the floor.

Prompto hummed pensively, tapping his chin, before leaning over the board and moving a piece a few spaces. “What should we try after this?”

“Hmm.” The Shield made his move and looked around the room, searching for the next materials. “Dunno. What do you think, Iggy?”

The Advisor still stared at the scene in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You must be joking.”

The two turned to blink up at him. Gladio pulled on a grin. “What’s wrong?”

Ignis closed his eyes, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, exercising a deep breath, he explained, “You are playing chess quite literally  _ on  _ the  _ unconscious _ heir to the  _ throne of Lucis _ . Rather than asking what’s wrong, you should ask what  _ ever  _ could be right about this.”

“Well,” Prompto shrugged, “It’s his fault for sleeping like the dead. Besides,” he moved another piece, “shouldn’t you be on our side, Iggy? He didn’t eat dinner.”

As the royal strategist thought about the possible comebacks to that argument, he reflected upon his duty. Alongside himself, those were the people assigned to protect Noct. The ones most loyal to the Prince of Lucis, the King of Light’s royal retinue.

The same ones playing chess on a board over the slumbering Prince’s ass.

As he drifted back to the present, the two other conscious party members were trying to figure out a rearrangement to further enhance their work. So far, the pile displayed a variety of objects, such as books, magazines, a remote, a water bottle, two wallets, two bananas and a cactuar figure –– besides, of course, the chessboard balanced on His Highness’ royal bum.

(Unbeknownst to Ignis, Prompto sadistically pondered about covering his friend in his dreaded vegetables.)

“How about we build a fort?”

Ignis sighed.

“What?” Gladio frowned at the blond, hands on his hips as he analyzed the logistics of their masterpiece.

“With cushions.” Prompto gestured at another chair in the room. “And pillows. Wasn’t royalty usually buried in fancy tombs in the past?”

The Shield slowly curled his lips into a grin. “You’re absolutely right, Prompto. Gotta have a proper burial for the Princess, right?”

Likely anticipating his fate, the slumbering log of a Prince chose that specific moment to stir in his sleep, causing some objects in his upper back to fall off him. The three retainers held still and watched, waiting. However, not even the noise of a crumbling piece of art could wake up the young Caelum. Prompto and Gladio exchanged a look.

“...Start with the cushions?” Prompto nodded, then set out to collect the materials.

“Six forgive us,” Ignis muttered under his breath, resting his elbow on the table and sinking his face into his palm.

For a few minutes, the Advisor rested his poor, tired soul, vaguely registering the sound of shuffling from the two oversized children putting their prank into motion.

“The hell are you doing? Just leave it there!” He heard Gladio growl.

“But it won’t stay in place!” The other whined back in a whisper.

Against his better judgement, Ignis looked up. Prompto tried to balance two odd-sized cushions vertically to work as a base for a bigger, heavier one. Meanwhile, Gladio used three thick cushions to cover Noctis’ face, in a possible attempt of regicide. The strategist’s eye twitched.

It was a logistical disaster.

“Just put two, then,” grumbled the Shield, with the gentleness of a behemoth.

“Then his feet will be left out!”

“Whatever, let’s just pile up--”

“Good grief!”

The two turned just as Ignis stood and stomped over as hard as the stick up his ass allowed.

“Are you daft? Of course you twits won’t get anywhere with that horrific footing!” Ignis rolled his eyes, clearing the terrain to start over. “First of all, we have to even out the mass distribution so the structure’s skeleton can support more weight. Gladio, hand me that cushion over there.”

Gladio and Prompto looked stricken, torn between offended and surprised. In the end, immaturity won out and the two grinned, pliant under sargeant Scientia’s orders.

After a few adjustments, they had a solid coffin for their beloved liege.

“Very well.” Ignis admired their handiwork with an arm holding his elbow, gesturing towards the lump on the floor. “Now for the adornments: the heaviest objects should be centered, in such way that the smaller ones irradiate from the pile and meet, forming a stable layer…”

Behind his back, Prompto nudged Gladio. “Iggy is no joke!”

The Shield grumbled his agreement. “Go big or go home, huh.”

Ignis turned and raised an eyebrow. “If I’m to be arrested for treason, I will make it count.”

Gladio barked out a laugh and clapped Ignis’ shoulder, moving past them to search for interesting offerings in his bag. Prompto tried holding back his chirpy giggles and failed, which finally cracked the Advisor’s façade and pulled out a reserved smirk from him.

As the two oldest (and sadly not most sensible) worked on new layers of piled up junk, Prompto made a record for posterity, shooting a whole film of The Burial of The Prince of Garbage with extra polaroid and B&W versions. As the cameraman expertly transitioned between angles, the three discussed numbers. By the end of their sculpture, they had made a deal to sell copies and share the money in case they needed to start over their life after jail.

The pile gathered the best of their equipment: Ignis’ kitchenware, Gladio’s survival kits, Prompto’s card games and tripods. There were books employed as pedestals, camping stool, pans, a fruits basket, slippers, towels, vases and other small objects scattered over.

“It’s done.” Ignis dusted himself off.

“Our masterpiece,” Gladio proudly crossed his arms.

“All in a day’s work.” Prompto finished sending the pics he’d taken on his cellphone to the other two and put away his device.

“What now? Leave him to wake up like that?”

“He’s still our charge, Gladiolus. We can’t do that.” The Advisor admonished, and Gladio swore he heard frustration in there.

“I’m just his friend,” Prompto offered.

“No, actually, I think that might be even better.” The Shield smirked with the malice of all the repressed insults to the young Prince he’d had to bite back in the Citadel. “He will have no idea about any of this.”

Ignis seemed to share his resentment. “Indeed.”

The blond, however, frowned. “How so? It’d be pretty damn funny to see Noct fumbling to get up from that pile of stuff.”

The mental image made their resolve waver, but at last the strategist did as expected and made the rational choice. “Yes, but I fear we can’t allow any opportunity for his back ache to return, or even worsen. However…” Ignis drawled, looking pleased with himself. “There is no harm in making him squirm a bit.”

That seemed to settle it. The three started to take down their monument, returning every part to their respective places.

When it was time to drag His Royal Laziness (title a courtesy of Gladiolus Amicitia) to bed, they expected Noctis to finally awaken, or something close to that.

He didn’t.

Noctis was able to sleep soundly through being used as a table, buried alive and manhandled. Ignis was jealous.

Once Sleeping Beauty had been tucked in and kissed goodnight, the royal retainers shared a look and nodded, sealing their secret.

 

 

 

Noctis was the second to wake up the next day. Ignis, as usual, had his first dose of coffee in hand and was skimming through the crumpled pages of a newspaper.

“Good morning,” offered the chamberlain.

“Mornin’,” Noct grumbled back, stretching his arms above his head. “Gods, I was out pretty bad, huh? What time is it?”

“A quarter past nine. In fact, I should wake the others.” As he said that, the strategist stood, moving towards the two remaining lumps on the beds. “And yes, it seems your exhaustion reached its peak last evening.”

The Prince hummed in acknowledgement, then scrunched up his face. “I had this weird dream.”

Ignis didn’t flinch. “Hmm? More foreshadowing?”

“Hmmm, not really.” He grimaced, probably willing his brain to wake up. “I mean, I hope not, because I dreamt I was buried by a boulder. And every time I’d try to get up, it only got heavier.”

Luckily for the Advisor, he was facing away from the Prince, because he was a second too late to catch his chuckle. As it was, he coughed to cover it up. “Sounds…unsettling.”

“Yeah…” Noctis frowned hard then, snapping his head back to Ignis. “Wait, I don’t remember getting to bed. Did you guys…?”

Collecting himself, Ignis tapped Prompto’s cheek, bugging him into awareness. “We weren’t about to let you sleep on the  _ carpet _ , Noct, soft as it may be.”

The young heir blinked, raising his eyebrows. “Huh. I really don’t remember.” Then, as an afterthought: “Just hope you guys didn’t do anything funny while I was out cold.”

After flicking Gladiolus’ nose and waiting for the annoyed growl to confirm he was awake, the Prince’s Advisor, entitled to guiding the King of Light towards a life of honesty and prosperity, turned back to his liege and smiled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Highness.”


End file.
